p.s. (pt. II)

at times it feels like i’m drowning. drowning in a sea of misunderstood gazes. people think that while i laugh at myself, it is okay to add remarks of their own. well, haha joke of the year. i guess it’s true what they say: it is funnier from where you’re standing. on the outside.

kinda like when i watch movies and dramas, i think to myself, i wish i can find love like that, ew that guy’s a douche…we’re all quick to fantasise, critisice and ridicule. it’s sad. it’s sad how easy it is one can conceive sadness and madness rather than happiness. are we all destined and poised for heartbreak and disappointment? then why is it still as hard to overcome it?

i remember how i told myself after the first time i got to know the real you; let this fantasy remain a fantasy and just love from afar. not a moment has passed where i do not think of you. loving something you know you can’t have because we’re heaven & earth apart.

i don’t have a style when it comes to writing. as you can see from this and the previous post, i’m haphazardly writing my thoughts. to reflect and present realness with every word or “metaphorical” diaspora.

(If You Forget Me by Paul Neruda)

if each day,

each hour,

you feel that you are destined for me

with implacable sweetness,

if each day a flower

climbs up to your lips to seek me,

ah my love, ah my own,

in me all that fire is repeated,

in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,

my love feeds on your love, beloved,

and as long as you live it will be in your arms

without leaving mine.


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